The Hobson Academy
by fiction of fans
Summary: A young, teenage boy finds himself in the prestigious and wonderful Hobson Academy, a school for the very best! Soon to become a student, he'll find himself being taught the many lessons it engages, the many romances to be born, and the many adventures to be undertaken. Read on to find out his journey!


**Chapter One: First Impressions**

The moon's charming glow lit my route on this warm summer night. The stars twinkled like baby-lights, and the mountains which straddled this specific road seemed to sigh contentedly with the weather scenario.

Though I was of a different emotion; the nearest town was over forty miles away, and I'd been kicked out of my home by my drunken, domineering mother. I had been walking for two nights now, without food or cosy rests. I could feel my legs slowly giving way, and my vision becoming increasingly blurred or disorientated.

A glacial breeze came down from the snowy mountains and pierced effortlessly into my skin. I knew this was it, the crippling blow. One minute I was staring dizzyingly at the ceaseless path ahead of me, and the next at the infinite stars. Was I in Heaven, slowly ascending into the sparkly realm? No; I soon realised that I'd passed out.

Darkness ensued.

The next thing I remember is feeling icy arms carrying me through the trees; my teenage, boyish body…And then, once more, darkness.

Warmth, comfort, ease, they were the things I felt when I regained consciousness.

My ears told me what they heard: laughter, distant chatter, footsteps rushing up and down stairs, a gentle fire crackling, and the sound of demanding five more minutes in bed. My nose confirmed what it inhaled: croissants, perfume, the old book smell, flowers. My hands and feet added what they touched: soft, tender bed sheets, gentle warmth from the fire. And finally, when my eyes fluttered open, they announced what they saw: a beautiful, rather small bedroom of French baroque style, a canopy bed with rich décor and gold and red lace curtains pulled back, revealing the lavishly furnished room, the walls painted a romantic burgundy, the door a thick, darkly polished black, and the carpet was plainly nonexistent; a largely spread rug covering onyx, varnished wooden panels. My confused and dainty eyes batted to the crackling fire on the far wall, longingly watching its soothing embers dancing beneath the swaying flames.

But yes, I was in a state of bewilderment. Where was I? What was I doing in this fantasy palace? Yet before I could mentally ponder any more questions, a mellifluous knocking sounded from the door. I dared not utter a word, waiting for the person to voluntarily enter. And they did.

A stunning woman with wavy, russet coloured hair peeked through, and beamed luminously when she saw I was awake. "Oh, good morning, dear," She moved angelically over to the bottom of the bed, bearing a decorative silver platter. I watched her in wonderment, trying to find my head.

"How are you feeling?" She asked with an amiable tone, smiling.

"Um, I'm fine," I chuckled courteously.

The beautifully attired woman's countenance brightened, "Brilliant. Are you hungry at all?"

In all honesty, I was, but I didn't want to come across as rude; I mean, I didn't even know this Good Samaritan. And almost as if she read my mind, she said: "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Esmé, sweetheart," She strolled over to my bed side and placed the silver platter on the ornate table, which consisted of a tea pot, a cup and saucer, some fresh milk, sugar, and some biscuits.

"Thank you, Esmé," I stuttered out. "Um, where am I?"

"You're in the Hobson Academy, in the C wing," She said nonchalantly, whilst pouring presumably me some tea.

I didn't know where that was at all, yet I mechanically nodded: "Okay."

"Here you are, dear," Esmé passed me the tea in a finely hand-painted diaphanous china cup of floral pattern.

"Thank you."

Once I'd finished the warm, tasty beverage, she asked if I desired biscuits. I replied in the affirmative.

She told me they were homemade, as was everything else in the Hobson Academy, which I saw still wary off. Was it a school, a college, an institution of some nature?

And again, she answered my unspoken question: "The students at the school are going on a trip to the mountains of Bleaklow Pass," Esmé sauntered over to the window and pointed at the far off blue peaks; the ones I had fainted in. "That leaves the academy empty, save you and I, the cooks and the cleaners, for seven hours, enough time for me to grant you a tour. Would you like that?" She inquired liberally with god like elocution.

I sat up aptly. "Why? Will I be staying here?" I subliminally prayed so; I would love to reside in such a manor.

Esmé turned to me, curving her lips enchantingly, "Would you like to be a student of Hobson Academy?"

The sound of the many pupils rushing around, down the corridors and staircases still remained.

"Yes."

"Then so be it."

**Oh, I hope you all like this new series I'm working on. Tell me what you think in the reviews please. A second chapter will be coming soon… **


End file.
